Recognition
by baylester
Summary: Taking care of a toddler Stiles was the worst thing that's ever happened to him. It was also the best.


"No, I am not leaving Stiles with him alone!" protested Scott. Derek's frown deepened when he looked at him.

"That's enough! Would you be happier if he stayed alone? This is the only option, Scott."

"But why Peter? Why not me or Erica?" whined Scott.

"We have a chance to track the witches. Don't you want to know how to turn Stiles back? Do you want him to stay as a kid forever?" he raised an eyebrow in question on Scott whose hopeful look disappeared.

"I'm not babysitting. I've had enough of my cousins over the years." joined Erica.

"Boyd?" asked Scott in faithful voice. He just shook his head and stood behind Derek.

"We need everyone we can get with us. We've been over this a dozen times already. We're going, Peter will take care of Stiles," Derek pointed on a kid currently sitting on the sofa and watching everyone around, "and that's the end of discussion." Peter's smile widened when he looked at Scott.

"Don't worry, I don't bite. Well, not anymore."

Scott looked at Stiles for the last time and whispered to him. "Don't worry, Stiles. We'll be back soon and get you back to normal, okay?" Stiles just looked at him like he had no idea what was going on but stayed still. Then, he slowly nodded and looked at Peter with curiosity in his eyes.

"Did you text his father?" asked Derek.

"Yeah, I told him we're at mine having a movie night." answered Scott with a frown on his face.

"Great, now that we solved this, we can get to work." Erica said, took Boyd's hand into her own and started pulling him to the door.

"Have fun, Big Bad, don't eat little Red, though. That would be acknowledged as a rape AND pedophilia." She smirked at him and left.

Scott's eyes widened but Derek was already pushing him out of the door.

Silence followed. Stiles looked around and sighed. That caught Peter's attention and he turned around. Stiles' big brown eyes found his and a frown marked his baby face.

He looked around five years old with a soft brown hair falling in slight curls on his forehead, moles dotting his skin and a little upturned nose. He looked even smaller in big clothes that didn't shrink with him.

"So, how about we go get you some clothes?" he suggested and reached out for Stiles' little hand. Stiles followed to movement with his eyes but looked like he didn't know what to do.

"C'mon." Peter raised an eyebrow while looking at Stiles. After a few moments Peter mentally jumped because Stiles slowly rolled off the couch and took Peter's hand into his own, small fingers getting lost in Peter's palm.

They walked to the car, Peter sat Stiles next to him, put on his seatbelt and drove them to the nearest mall.

Stiles still hasn't said anything, which considering his teen years, was more than a little worrying.

He just kept staring around like a puppy, as if he was waiting for something bad to happen to him.

Peter stopped, knelt down in front of Stiles and looked at him with serious expression on his face.

"Listen, you may've heard some…unfortunate information about myself in that quite short period of time you've been in this body, but I want you to know that I will not harm you in any way, and I will not let anyone do that either. Quite the opposite, we're going shopping and you can get whatever you want, alright?"

"Alright." whispered Stiles. Peter smiled and they walked into the mall together. Stiles being in big t-shirt and jeans got more than a few weird glances on the way to kid's section but Peter paid no attention to that and neither did Stiles.

"Can I get a Captain America t-shirt?" asked Stiles suddenly.

"Of course, I told you that you can get anything you want, didn't I?"

"Yeah." smiled Stiles.

Peter took some jeans, t-shirts, shoes, jackets, socks and underwear, all with Stiles' approval while Stiles looked around. When he picked up a plaid shirt, Peter snorted. Stiles put it back and Peter realized his mistake.

"No, you can take it." He assured him. Stiles looked uncertain but his face showed how much he liked the plaid.

"But you laughed."

"It's just because I remembered something. I wasn't making fun of you, I promise." Stiles shoulders relaxed. "Hey, why don't you take it in blue too? I like that one even more." He suggested and hoped that Stiles would quickly forget his mistake. It worked.

Stiles took both and Peter decided that it was enough.

When they got to the paying counter, girl who stood behind it looked at them and smiled.

"Is that your son?" she asked.

"No, I'm just babysitting. We played and he got his clothes messy so we decided to get him a new ones." He lied quickly without batting an eye. Stiles seemed confused but he was too busy with looking in awe at his new Marvel t-shirt to say something that would blow off Peter's lie.

"Oh. That must've been a fun day then." she bit her lip while looking at Peter. "If you want, you can change his clothes in the fitting room." She suggested and handed him the clothes while he gave her his credit card. He smiled at her back and thanked her. In that moment, Stiles decided that he wanted Peter's attention again and kicked him in the shin. He had a small frown on his face and frowned at the girl. She looked a little startled. Peter hissed and scowled at Stiles. He looked at him innocently and Peter sighed.

"Thank you." he addressed the girl for the last time and took Stiles to the fitting room.

"Which one?" asked Peter as he held up a couple of t-shirts in front of Stiles. He pointed at blue one with Captain America's shield on it and Peter handed it to him. He took some jeans, underwear, socks and shoes too and put them on the chair next to mirror. Stiles looked at him in expectation. Peter raised an eyebrow.

"I can change on my own. Imma big boy, daddy says so."

"So what's stopping you?" asked Peter.

"Well you! I can't change when you're looking at me!" answered Stiles.

"Oh." Peter laughed and turned around. "Is that better, or do you want me to leave the room?"

"It's okay, you can stay. But don't look!" Peter's shoulders shook in quiet laughter while Stiles changed. After couple moments of rustling clothes and a little noises of Stiles' breathing in the back of the room, Peter couldn't help himself and asked.

"Do you need help?"

"…I can't tie my shoes." answered Stiles after a few moments in small voice.

"I can help you with that, if you want." suggested Peter.

"If you insist." Peter turned around, knelt and showed Stiles how to do it.

"See? It's not that difficult."

"Pops was supposed to show me how to do it, but he's been working a lot." said Stiles.

"I'm sure it's because he wants to buy you as many Marvel t-shirts as there is in the universe. And he does need money for that, quite a lot actually."

"Oh." Stiles' face brightened. "That makes sense." He agreed.

Peter smiled to himself. How little it takes to keep children happy.

"Let's go, Stiles. We have to head back." He stood back on his legs, fixed his shirt and looked back at Stiles.

"Hey, Peter?" asked Stiles while they were walking to the car, one had in Peter's, the other holding a small bag full of Marvel clothes.

"Hmm?"

"Why do you…why do you keep calling me that name?" Peter stopped.

"Because I don't know your real name. I don't think even Scott knows, and he is your best friend." said Peter.

"He is? That's great! I always wanted a best friend. Is he nice? Mama says I should be friends with nice kids."

"Yeah, I guess he is nice."

"Good." Stiles nodded and they kept walking in silence. When they got to the car, Peter put all the clothes in the backseat, helped Stiles with his seatbelt and drove them to the house.

"Hey, Peter?" started Stiles not even a minute into the ride.

"Yes?"

"Do you think I could see my parents?" asked Stiles in quiet voice. Peter sighed.

"I'm sorry but you will have to wait for the others. Afterwards, when they help you get better, you can go home." he explained.

"But I don't feel bad." urged Stiles.

"Do you not feel good in my company? Oh no, do you, dare I say it, think I'm boring?"

"NO!" hurried Stiles. "I think you are really funny! The funniestes, Pinky Promise." assured him Stiles in worried voice.

"That's good. I almost started to worry."

He parked the car in front of the house and they got in. It was after 6pm.

"How about dinner?" asked Peter.

"Will you make me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"

"Are you not old enough to do that yourself?"

"Don't be silly, Mama says I have to turn 7 so I can help her in the kitchen. She only lets me lick the spoon. It's not fair, but papa agrees, even though it means that he's the one that does the dishes."

"Well you sure talk like a big boy."

"Mama says it's because I'm intelligent. Are you intelligent, Peter?" asked Stiles while Peter was making him a sandwich.

"Well, I like to think that I am."

"Did you go to big school, then? Mama did but papa went to Police Academy. Did you know my papa is an officer? He takes me with him to work sometimes, but I can't touch anything, Mrs. Martha is there with me when papa is busy fighting villains. Like Batman! Mrs. Martha is nice and brings me cookies sometimes, but she keeps telling my name all wrong."

Well, it looked like there wasn't a problem with Stiles talking, once he let Peter in, there was no stopping. Not that Peter minded. He missed kids.

Growing up in a big house full of screaming children was annoying, but he loved them all very much and the empty house only made him feel sick.

"I did go to university, if that's what you're asking." said Peter after a few moments. "Mrs. Martha seems interesting and yes, I knew your father is a…police officer, Stiles. I met him, you know?"

"Do you know my mama too?" wondered Stiles. He started eating his sandwich. "This is yummy, thank you, Peter."

"You're welcome. I did, a long time ago. She was a friend of my sister. They were a lot like Scott and you, actually, a little less reckless, but still finding trouble everywhere."

"What is your sister's name? Mama would've told me about her, I'm sure."

"Well, I had two sisters, Talia, the eldest, and Anna. I was the youngest so they used to pick up on me and prank me all the time, your mother too. She and Annie were inseparable."

"Like Scott and me?" asked Stiles.

"Scott and I." corrected him Peter. "Yes, just like you and Scott."

Stiles smiled at him widely and Peter snorted, which made his smile disappear in a blink of eye.

"You have a peanut butter under your nose. Here let me." explained Peter, took a tissue from the counter and cleaned Stiles' face. "Now, that's better. You can get any girl you want."

"Peter?"

"Stiles?" said Peter while he was cleaning up the counter he made a mess on while making a sandwich.

"And if I want it to be a boy?" Peter stopped moving and looked at Stiles' blushing face.

"I think that you can love whoever you want, it doesn't matter if they are a girl, or a boy." answered Peter honestly.

"Really?"

"Yes. My niece, Cora, she only likes girls and I'm not mad at her. Her brother Derek, the one with a scowl on his face that makes him look like he has constipation, also likes girls, even though he's not really lucky with them. But I still love them the same way I did before I found out. It doesn't change anything." assured him Peter.

"….what about you?"

"Well, I don't really care. As much as the person is nice, it doesn't really matter."

"Like Scott nice? Or Mrs. Martha?" Peter laughed.

"Mrs. Martha seems like a nice lady, but I don't really know her so that wouldn't have worked out." said Peter. "And I don't think Scott and I could ever even form a friendship. He doesn't like me very much." He continued.

"Why not?" gasped Stiles. "You are really nice and you make good sandwiches. And you like superheroes. Also your eyes are reeeeally…" he stopped, his face reddening even more, and closed his mouth quickly.

"Yes? What was it?" teased him surprised Peter.

"Nothing, I'm bored. Let's watch a TV." He ran to the couch and made himself comfortable.

Peter snorted and walked after him.

"But only for a little while. It's getting late and you should go to bed soon. You can wear your new pajamas we bought today." Stiles frowned but didn't protest.

Fifteen minutes later a first yawn echoed in the living room followed by three others. In half an hour Stiles' head fell on Peter' shoulder.

He turned off the TV and carefully pulled Stiles into his arms. On the way to his room, he made sure that Stiles was as safe in his arms as possible, so he wouldn't hit his head or drop him. It's been quite some time since he held a child like that and he really didn't want to hurt Stiles.

When he put Stiles on his bed, he woke up.

"You should change your clothes." whispered Peter softly.

"You do it. Don't wanna, too tired." answered Stiles in sleepy voice.

"So now you don't mind that I can see you?" chuckled Peter.

"Dark, can't see."

Oh, Stiles didn't know about werewolves, hence, he didn't know about Peter having perfectly good vision in dark of the room either. And he had no intention in telling him anytime soon. He just got the kid to trust him.

"Alright." Peter brought the new pajamas in the room and helped Stiles change. He then pulled a comforter over him and told him to go back to sleep.

"Goodnight, Stiles." He whispered.

"…Przemysław." said a small voice from under the comforter.

"Excuse me?" asked a shocked Peter. Did Stiles just…?

"My name, I'm Przemysław. Like my dziadek." murmured Stiles. " Oh. _Oh_.

"Alright. Why did you tell me now?" asked Peter softly.

"You're nice. Mama told me to be honest with nice people. So I told you."

"I feel privileged to know your name, Przemysław." said Peter without a single problem.

Stiles smiled and cuddled Peter's pillow.

"Night, Peter."

"Goodnight, Przemysław."

The sun was shining through curtains, warm feeling gently sweeping down Peter's face. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times before his vision cleared, and looked around. Everything seemed fine, nothing out of space, but despite that, Peter had a feeling in his guts that something was missing. Something was wrong.

Crushing sound echoed from the kitchen. Peter shot out of bed, running down the stairs in sudden worry. Przemysław.

"Stiles!" He shouted. Nobody answered. He took stairs by three at the time, ran around the corner and got into the kitchen. He found him sitting next to open fridge, face in hands, crying. On the floor by his side was a small pile of food, cracked eggs, spilled milk and cereal thrown all over the floor. He kneeled next to Stiles, uncovered his face and gently held his face in his own hands, sweeping tears away with his thumbs.

"Are you hurt?" he asked quietly in reassuring voice. Stiles looked at him, lip shaking in worry, tears falling down his cheeks. Then he shook his head in denial.

"Are you sure?" he could smell how scared Stiles was but he didn't smell any blood. That didn't mean that he couldn't be hurt in other way. He didn't want to risk Stiles having a concussion or broken bone. Stiles only seemed shaken though. Not that it made Peter feel any less worried. All it took was a single day for him to protect the pup like his own.

"I'm fine. But the food is ruined!" said Stiles.

"I thought that you weren't allowed to cook."

" 'm not."

"Then what were you thinking?" Stiles looked even more scared now.

"I'm not angry about the food, pup." he assured him. "It's you I'm worried about." explained Peter. Stiles looked unsure.

"I just…I thought…" started Stiles. Peter raised an eyebrow in question.

"You were being so nice to me yesterday, and you made me a sandwich and you looked so tired. I just wanted to help. I thought that if I made breakfast, you could rest some more and then we could go to the park." sobbed Stiles. Peter was shocked.

"It's not your job to take care of me, Przemysław." he told him. Stiles blushed at the mention of his name.

"I'm the adult here, you're the kid." Stiles seemed confused. "I'm not a baby!"

"Look, pup. I appreciate your help, I do. But next time, wake me up and we can work on it together, okay?" Stiles nodded.

"Come one, let's get you cleaned up." said Peter and swept Stiles into his hands, carrying him upstairs to the bathroom connected to his bedroom. He started removing dirty pajamas when Stiles froze and slapped Peter's hands away.

"Hey, I can do that! Not a baby, remember?" he argued.

"Oh, alright." chuckled Peter, turned around and went to his bedroom. He took out clothes for Stiles- that being simple light green shirt, grey trousers, black hoodie with wolf ears he couldn't resist buying the other day and some underwear and socks-and walked back to the door of bathroom. He knocked three times.

"It Looks like we forgot one little detail, kiddo."

"Oh?" he heard Stiles say.

"Yeah, what do you plan on wearing now that your pajamas are dirty?"

"Eh…clothes? You bought me some just yesterday."

"That's true, but look around, do you see any clothes in there?" teased him Peter.

"…no."

"Well, I am holding some. Would you mind if I walked in and handed them to you? I won't look."

"Gimme a second." said Stiles after a moment. "Okay, you can come in."

He walked in and saw Stiles standing in the middle of bathroom covered in a towel that was falling from his small body. His cheeks were heated and he looked anywhere but at Peter.

"You said you wouldn't look!"

"Sorry, sorry. But how was I supposed to walk in without bumping my head or toe? Have you ever bumped your toe? It's a very painful experience." explained amused Peter while he handed Stiles his clothes.

"Yeah I did. It was awful. Mama go me ice-cream afterwards though, so it wasn't as bad in the end." rambled distracted Stiles as he put on his clothes. Peter's hand covering his eyes was enough for him.

"You can look now." He said as he was trying to zip his new hoodie.

Peter uncovered his eyes and helped him.

"So, how about that breakfast?" said Peter with a laugh as he heard Stiles' stomach rumbling.

"That's the best idea you had today, Peter."

"Hey! I have a plenty of good ideas daily. A dozens, a hundreds." He continued, took Stiles' hand into his own and started walking back. On the way to the stairs Stiles suddenly stopped, took a few steps back and jumped. He landed on Peter's back with excited yelp.

"Carry me."

"I thought you weren't a baby." said surprised Peter.

"Am not."

"Oh alright."

He jumped a few times on the way to kitchen which made Stiles laugh every time, he sat him on the counter and turned around.

"Well, it looks like we're not having a breakfast before we clean this up."

"Nooooo" whined Stiles. "I'm hungry."

"Yeah, so am I, pup. How about we leave this for Derek to clean?" he asked more himself than Stiles. Mentioned boy nodded anyway.

"But who knows when they will get back. It could start smell really bad and we don't want that, do we?" he looked at Stiles.

"I guess." Sighed Stiles, jumped off the counter and walked to Peter.

"Where is the broom?" he asked in resigned voice.

"Let's see." he brought a broom and some other stuff for cleaning, putting them on the counter before he looked at Stiles.

"I clean, you supervise. "

"Aye aye, captain."

After three minutes of Peter's cleaning and Stiles' humming, Stiles said.

"Soooo can we make pancakes?"

"I'm so glad you ask, my fellow pirate. Or would you prefer parrot? You sure do talk…"

"Hey!" protested Stiles and hit Peter with other broom.

"Did you just hit me? Run, run as fast as you can little one." He warned him. Stiles yelled and started running towards the living room. Peter put down the broom and with laugh ran after him.

"I will catch you!"

"No you won't, old man."

"Did you just….oh it's on."

"...and that's why Marvel is better than DC." finished little boy, holding up about 10 different comic books, serious look on his face.

"Hmm, I've never thought of it that way." said Erica, barely holding in her laugh, trying not to ruin Stiles' presentation that took 38 minutes to finish. Yes, Peter did, indeed, count.

"Okay, that's enough. It's time for bed, peanut." Peter stood up and with him the whole pack too. They all suddenly decided to look busy, none of them wanted to help Peter give Stiles a bath. Those were legendary, water dripping from the ceiling, toys thrown everywhere, bubbles flying down the stairs and noise loud enough to wake up dinosaurs.

"But that was only Marvel versus DC, Peter! There are also 'movies versus books' and 'TV shows versus comic books'! That's all important to know!" he disagreed, small frown settling upon his face.

"Well, how about the pack comes over the next weekend and we make it a slumber party, you will have enough time to explain it all in great detail." suggested Peter.

While Stiles eyes light up with excitement, he could hear growls of some of the others, the idea deemed absolutely unnecessary to them. Well, their loss.

"Alright. But can we order pizza and watch every Avengers movie? Pretty pleaseeeee." begged Stiles.

"Under one condition."

"Anything!" Stiles jumped down from his chair that he put in front of the sofa, so everyone could see him during his speech, and run towards Peter, his big brown eyes looking at him with plead.

"Bath time. Now." said Peter, catching de-aged teen around his torso and tossing him over his shoulder.

"NO!" screamed Stiles, his hands reaching towards Derek that looked guiltily back at him.

"Sorry, pup. Nothing I could do about it." Derek had always had a soft spot for Stiles, teen or a kid. Now he could express it more though, playing with Legos and drawing pictures of wolves every once in a while.

It's actually been two weeks since Stiles turned into a child, no traces of witch that did it.

"I will have to rethink positions of my favorite people in this house." pouted Stiles, looking at him from his position on Peters shoulder.

"Say bye Stiles."

"Bye Stiles." grumbled Stiles while being carried up the stairs.

"I taught him that!" yelled proudly Scott at Peter's retreating back.

"Why does that not surprise me." murmured Peter under his nose and put Stiles down in the bathroom next to his bedroom.

He filled the bath with warm water, added bubbles and toys.

"Will you get there or do you need my help?" He asked Stiles when he looked at him.

Said boy was standing in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, pout still residing on his face.

He sighed.

"Come on, peanut. Sooner you get there, sooner we can read you the story and you can dream about all the superheroes."

"Ugh, alright. Turn around!" Peter did as he was told and didn't move until he heard the familiar sound of splashing water.

Once he looked back, Stiles was already playing with a small boat, bubbles flying around and getting into his soft brown hair.

'The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to bed exhausted, their throats sore. But he night's surprises weren't over.

When Harry pulled back his sheets, he found his invisibility cloak folded neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it:

Just in case.'

''Another one, please, Peter.'' begged Stiles, his eyes shining in the moonlight.

''The agreement was two chapters a night, peanut. This was the third. It's time for bed now.''

''Can we read tomorrow instead of going to the park? I want to know what happens next.'' Peter sighed, closing the book and putting it on the shelf.

''We'll see. Depends...''

''On what? I'll be good, I promise.''

''Okay then, we can read but you will have to eat your breakfast first. Even the veggies.'' Stiles groaned, his head hitting the pillow in dramatic way. Peter chuckled.

''No take backs.''

''Fine, but you'll read until the book is finished.''

''That's another 50 pages Stiles. Are you sure you can stay still for such a long time?''

''I'm sure.'' he insisted.

''I'll read it, but now you have to sleep. It's late and we're meeting your dad tomorrow.

He stood up, covered Stiles with blanket that somehow ended under the bed while Stiles was kicking his legs in excitement on the mention of unicorns, kissed his forehead and left the room with quiet goodnight.

''Nighty night.'' whispered Stiles back, his eyes already closed, small hands holding onto wolf plushy named Grumpy from Derek.

Peter smiled and closed the door.

Who'd have thought that he would like this so much? He sighed.

He still had a lot to do; tracking wasn't as easy as in Charmed. And truth to be told, he was kind of not sure if he even wanted to track that witch.

Would Stiles still want to spend time with him when he wasn't a toddler anymore?

"I'm bored!" pouted Stiles.

"Well, what do you want to do?" asked nervous Scott, his hand scratching his head while thinking. Taking care of a toddler was more difficult than he expected it to be.

He had some experience with babysitting, he and Stiles once in seventh grade decided they were old enough to make money and babysitting was one of the jobs they tried, but truth to be told, Stiles took care of the most things during that time, saying he didn't want Scott to get hurt...or hurt anyone.

As if it's his fault he has butterfingers! Kira doesn't mind he sometimes drops things he is holding, she blows up stuff all the time!

Oh yea, Kira...

"Earth to Scott, we're losing the connection! I repeat, Earth to Scott!" said voice right next to his ear and when he turned his head around, there was his best friend's currently toddler looking body giggling at his confusion.

He couldn't help and smiled, he did make an adorable sight.

"What's up, sport?"

"When's Peter coming back?" he pouted.

Oh yeah, there was that. Out of all people from the pack, it must've been Peter he liked the most.

It was like a curse.

"Scooooooott." whined Stiles. He was hanging down from a couch, his small legs being the only thing that held him in place.

"He just went to talk to Dr. Deaton." He replied.

"The vet? Why would he do that? Peter doesn't have a pet, was it Derek's pet? Derek looks like he likes dogs. Does Derek have a dog? Is it a puppy? Can I see him? Oh no, did they go see Dr. Vet because his puppy is sick?" he climbed down from couch a sat next to Scott, his small hands folded in his lap, big eyes looking at Scott in worry.

"What? No, Stiles. It's nothing like that. Jeez, how did you come up with that?"

Stiles just shrugged.

"What is it then?" he asked.

"Dr. Deaton's just an old friend and Peter went to talk to him about some stuff."

"But why couldn't he take me with him? Does he not like me anymore?" tears appeared in corners of his eyes, ready to fall every second.

"Eeeh…Of course not! He..." He said quickly.

"He doesn't?" shouted Stiles and jumped from the couch, his small body running up the stairs.

"Wait, Stiles! That's not what I meant!" Before he could run up the stairs, he heard a familiar sound of lock on the door and bad feeling crept up his spine.

"Stiles?" He shouted, and then he tried the door. It was locked, as he hoped it wouldn't be.

Peter's gonna kill him.

"What did you do." Those were the first words Peter said the moment he took a step into the house. His eyes were electric blue, his heartbeat fast.

"I didn't mean to, it was just a misunderstanding!" he tried to defend himself.

"I could hear him crying all the way from the woods."

"I'm sorry!"

"Get out." he moved him to the side and ran up the stairs, slowing down the closer he got to his room that Stiles locked himself into.

"Stiles? Open the door, please." All he heard was sniffing and small hiccups.

"Przemysław, please let me in. Tell me what happened." He begged. For a moment there was complete silence, the only sound being Stiles' heartbeat getting closer to the door, then small click and the door was being opened. Before he could get closer to Stiles, he ran back to Peter's bed and jumped on it, hiding under his blanket.

He came inside, closed the door and slowly walked to his bed. He sat down on dark sheets, one hand soothing down Stiles' back, his voice echoing in the bedroom.

"I don't know what happened, kiddo, but whatever Scott told you, I'm sure it's not the truth."

All he got was a muffled sound. Then the sheets were removed and Stiles' tear-stained eyes were looking at him.

"Do you still love me?"

"Of course I do, silly. What made you think I don't?"

"You left without me! And then Scott said you don't like me anymore and you were gone and weren't coming back and it wasn't even because of Derek's puppy!"

"Wait, what puppy?" he asked confused.

Stiles looked at him with squinted eyes.

"Well, the one he doesn't have, obviously." He said in voice that meant no arguing.

Peter was getting more confused. He was never letting Scott babysit again. He moved Stiles little closer to the centre of bed and lied down next to him, Stiles' head positioned in the crook of his neck. His fingers went automatically into Stiles' hair, rubbing small circles and getting tangled the dark locks.

"I will always love you, pup. You're the most important person in my life. I promise you." He kissed the crown of his head.

"Pinky promise?" asked Stiles in small voice, and two seconds later he yawned.

"Have I ever lied to you, my dear?" he questioned.

"Pinky promise, Peter!"

"Alright, alright. Pinky promise." They entwined their pinkies with each other's. Stiles' heartbeat was now calm, his breathing getting deeper. In ten minutes he was asleep. It was the most comfortable Peter's felt in years. The happiest.

So of course when he woke up the next morning, it was to the sound of rapid heartbeat and very teenage Stiles wrapped in his arms, panicking.

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the light. That wasn't right, his window was on the west side so he either slept for too long or he wasn't at home.

The sheets didn't feel like his own and he couldn't hear his dad around the house, not the ticking of his wall clock, sound of his computer constantly working, not his neighbours that liked to wake up very early, work in their garden and enjoy the rest of their soon ending life.

He would let all of that pass. He was too tired to bother with it.

The thing that made him freeze was the body pressed to his back and a hand holding him tight against it.

It couldn't have been Scott, his snoring would be obvious and sleeping in one bed with Scott was long time ago declared not allowed. His kicking gave Stiles more bruises than Stiles got in a week after he joined the lacrosse team and Jackson decided he was going to make him leave as soon as he could, no matter what.

So, he was in a strange house, possibly strange location in a bed with a stranger. Stranger that wasn't letting him go anytime soon, if the strength of his hold was anything to go by.

He tried to move away, the bed creaked and he froze. The man behind him was waking up.

He closed his eyes, not really knowing what to do. He swallowed the lump in his throat and didn't move an inch.

Everything seemed to freeze.

"Stiles, what's wrong?" the man moved his hand from his stomach and sat up.

He moved to the opposite end of the bed and turned around, his hands holding onto the sheets tightly.

"Where am I?" it was the first thing Peter heard from Stiles and it made him frown.

He'd been a frequent visitor in the pack house and just because he hasn't spent much time in Peter's room, it doesn't mean hasn't been inside. Peter's huge bookshelves filled with hundreds of books being the main reason.

"In my room. You felt asleep and I didn't want to wake you up." He answered, hand going through his messy bed hair, hand covering a yawn.

"But where _is_ your room, and mainly, what am I doing in here?" demanded Stiles in panicked voice, his heartbeat echoing in the room, being the only sound in the whole empty house.

It was Monday, late morning, which meant everyone was either at college, or in Derek's case, working out in gym or probably doing something like feeding ducks in park and saving kittens from trees. What does he know? That's totally a thing Derek would do.

"In the pack house, the house you help to build? You know, place where we meet up, sometimes you kids sleep over, and eat all the food I buy and cook, break things, steal my books." He pointed at the bookshelves opposite of bed. Stiles looked over and his eyes widened, mouth dropping open.

"Those are all yours?" He asked in awe.

"I did collect them, yes. But they belong to the pack now that I live here. But what the hell, Stiles? You helped me fill those bookshelves, don't you remember?"

"I think I'd remember getting my hands all over those books, don't you think, dude?" he argued.

"You keep mentioning that word, pack you said? Like wolf pack? Do you hide wolves in here? Because that's so illegal! Is your plan to feed me to them? Is that why I'm here?"

"Well now I know it's you and not someone pretending to be you." He sighed.

"How could someone pretend to be me? I am me, no one looks like me. You keep ignoring my questions!"

"Because they make no sense! And have you forgotten about the skinwalkers?" He snapped.

"Nothing you've so far said makes sense. I'm in some house I supposedly helped build? What the heck, dude? I have no idea how to build a house, I'm a sophomore, they don't teach those things at school."

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, those are the things someone teaches you like manually. Or Youtube. Youtube's great for that. I once spent there six hours going from movie trailers to creepypasta's worst to culinary videos."

"Not that, you think you're a sophomore? What's the last thing you remember?"

"Uh...my dad leaving for work in the evening, then I spent like two hours on stumbleupon and then went to bed. I woke up here." He explained, confusion showing on his face.

"Why am I here and why am I not panicking? This is crazy! Who the hell are you? Where is my dad?" He got off the bed, his back hitting the wall next to his window. He slid off of the bed too, hands raised in peace offering.

"Your dad's at home, or maybe work, I don't really know his schedule. And I would call this panicking. My name's Peter, Peter Hale, this is house my nephew, I, and a couple other people built. You should sit down, there's a lot you don't remember."

"Peter Hale? There's only one Peter Hale, and the last time I saw him he was residing in hospital, he had scars all over his body. Your face is flawless." Did he just compliment him?

"Well, thank you. I like to think so."

"You're a liar!"

"I do not lie, Stiles. I omit the truth, I make things more interesting if needed, but I do not lie. And especially not to you, I've learnt my lesson."

"But then how? Not even the best plastic surgeon could've done this. And that still doesn't explain me being here, with you!"

"If you'd just let me finish, I would tell you." He snapped, getting closer to Stiles.

"Then tell me!" He demanded.

"Okay, look. For everything that doesn't make sense to you, there's a perfect explanation."

He opened his mouth to tell him that it's just difficult to explain when suddenly…

BOOM

There was a crush downstairs; he could hear Erica and Jackson wrestling in the kitchen, Boyd following them while Isaac was tapping away at his phone, probably texting Scott the current events.

Before he could stop him, Stiles moved to the door and ran down the stairs, heading for the loud noise.

"Wait, Stiles!" He screamed, his voice making every other occupant of the house downstairs quiet down. When he finally caught up with him, the scene before his eyes made him sight in defeat.

Erica and Jackson were on the floor, clawing at each other, their shining eyes looking at Stiles in awe, trying to get up as fast as they could to greet him.

"What the fuck." said Stiles in quiet voice, his own eyes going between the claws and the shining eyes of the two.

He walked into the room, pointed at Stiles, then the other kids, then he repeated the move in opposite way.

"Stiles, the werewolves. Werewolves, Stiles that doesn't remember anything that's happened in past several years, including us. What a great way to explain, the visual act. I haven't thought of that one."


End file.
